


It Started out so Nice

by Schwanengesang



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Smut, a bit of fluff i guess, attempted suicide, okay no a lot, unwanted abduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwanengesang/pseuds/Schwanengesang
Summary: Lou knows that monsters from fairy tales are nothing but that, fairy tales. He met his own personal monster before though, and now he's not so sure about that anymore. He could have lived without knowing about them, or died for that matter, but nothing ever goes according to plan. He learned that the hard way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for actually deciding to read this!  
> This is the first story I've ever written and it's not even in my first language lmao. If you find any glaring mistakes or stuff that doesn't make sense please point them out?
> 
> Title is from 'It Started out so Nice' by Rodriguez. Brilliant guy. Check him out.
> 
> If this story seems familiar it's because I'm cross-posting it, I'm also on aff and fp. (diffrent penname tho) (also story was prev. called Just A Boy but that was lame so I changed it) (not quite sure the new name is better)
> 
> Have fun reading! Also, maybe, if you have any thoughts about this story, no matter good or bad, share them with me? Please? (but pls no name callings and stuff I'm a fragile little hooman) It's really hard to improve when you don't know what you're doing wrong so I'm always happy to hear from you guys!

It's going to hurt, right? Of course silly, you're going to cut through your skin with a really sharp object. Stupid.

Nevertheless I'm dead-set on cutting my wrists. First the right one, then the left one. It hurts like a bitch as I force the knife into my arms. Who am I kidding, just because my brain is numb doesn't mean I can't feel pain.

The blood that's welling up as soon as the sharp blade cuts an angry line into my skin is fascinating. It's a stark contrast to my paleness as it flows down, all the way over my palms to my fingertips to drip-drop down to the floor. Slowly at first, then faster, steadier until it's a river.

I have been sitting on the edge of the bathtub, but now I climb in the whole way, settling down into the curve of it. The tub walls are cold against my skin. My hands are laying limply in my lap, my jeans getting heavy with all the blood they're soaking up from my body. I'm starting to shiver, getting colder by the second because of the blood loss. Leaning my head back, I observe the mold spot in the corner of the ceiling above my head. I wonder who lived here. A family maybe? Or just some old granny who died long ago. That would explain the state of the building. It's run down, dirty. Abandoned.

My body grows heavy. Feels like a big blanket is laying on me. I can't say if I'm cold or hot anymore. It just feels kinda...hazy.

I'm floating. My eyes closed somewhere along the ride to hell and I can't bring myself to open them. Not that I want to. Don't even know how long I've been sitting here already. How long does it take to die of blood loss? Should have looked it up.

* * *

Strange. Could have sworn life after death doesn't exist. Or, and this is the more likely case, I'm not dead. Brilliant.

My head feels like I spent the night partying hard and getting mind-blowing wasted. But I can't really compare because I never did. Especially last night. Doesn't keep my head from hurting.

To distract me from the pain I try to make out, or rather hear and feel because my eyelids refuse to open, where the hell I am. I'm laying on something soft, from the feel of it a mattress. There are noises but farther away. Beeping, footsteps, every now and then voices. As I'm moving my arm I notice that something is attached to the crook of it. And suddenly my brain decides to work because it's adding one and one together. Only the result isn't two.

Hospital. I'm in a hospital. Where else.

Seconds later my suspicions are confirmed, because my eyes give in to my struggling and I'm able to open them. Everything's a bit blurry and really, really bright and suddenly there's a voice beside me. A voice that belongs to a man who looks like a doctor.

"Hey there. Good to have you back with us. How are you feeling?"

I open my mouth but nothing's coming out because my mouth feels like a desert and my throat is equally dry. So I swallow, cough slightly, swallow again and squeeze out a pathetic sounding, hoarse "awesome". Why does it feel like I tried to kill myself by denying every possible liquid on earth when I slit my wrists?

"Can I get something to drink, please?" Jesus, I sound like a chain smoker.

"Right beside you." The doctors nods to a little hospital table beside my bed. There's a glass of water sitting on it.

I leap at it, or more like try to because my head and arms hurt like a bitch if I so much as move my little finger. While I gulp down the water I observe my surroundings. To my left side there's a door, on my right a window. Doc's standing next to the bed near the door and pierces me with his eyes behind thin, wire-rimmed glasses. "Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital." Duh. I place the glass back on the table.

"Do you know why you are here?"

Gawd, I _really_ don't want to deal with this right now. "Yeah..." I give Doc a once-over. Typical white coat, short brown hair, graying at the temples, beginnings of a beer belly, bags under the eyes, creases, particularly deep between the brows and his mouth is set in a thin, straight line. Exhausted. Fed up.

I decide to accommodate and add "...because I tried to kill myself."

Doc nods. "You were unconscious for almost 20 hours because you lost so much blood. In fact, considering your weight and stature and the amount of blood you lost, it's well. It's a miracle you're not dead."

Huh. Why _am_ I not dead, then? Goddammit, can't even die properly.

I rub my nose in thought, mindful of my hurting wrist. How come I'm at a hospital? The only possible explanation is that somebody found me and called an ambulance. I'm pretty sure nobody was around when I was in the process of finishing myself off, though. "How did I get here?"

"That...We don't know exactly. Simply put, you were laid down right in front of our doorsteps, barely alive. " He sounds bored, like he really doesn't want to deal with me right know.

I was actually taken to the hospital by some stranger? That's so weird. I mean, I'm not stupid. I know it takes little time until you're dead when you slice your wrists, so I chose a place where it's very unlikely to be found soon, let alone ever. Guess I'm not that bright. But at the time it seemed like a good idea; abandoned house, secluded. The only somewhat whole thing in the bathroom was the tub. Still, some person actually did find me, and instead of calling an ambulance and be done with it, they decided to bring me here themselves.

"We couldn't identify you but now that you're awake I would like to record your personal data so we can inform your legal guardian and-"

"No, thanks,” I cut him off quickly. “I'm fine. There's no need."

He gives an annoyed chuckle, adjusting his stupid glasses. "Son, I really don't think you're in the right situation to judge whether you're fine or not."

His patronizing behavior is really starting to get on my nerves. "Well, for starters, I am _not_ your son!" I hiss, trying to kill him with my glare. All it does is intensify my headache, and I have to suppress a wince.

He rolls his eyes. "Right. How about you tell me your name then?"

I consider the likelihood of my discharge. It's doubtful that they will let me go easily and the possibility that I will be on suicide watch is quite high.

I decide to act a little. "Yeah, okay." I try to seem like I deflate and peer shyly up from under my blond curls. "It's Ethan. Ethan Carter." Like I'm going to tell him my real name. But he buys it, apparently.

Doc whips a pencil out of his left breast pocket and writes it on his clipboard. He asks me some more questions and I try to come up with answers, making up a phone number and the names of my parents. Appearing a little bit lost and tired without sounding suspicious or unrealistic is not that hard. My head's still hurting though not pounding horribly like before, instead I start to feel the wounds on my arms, wrapped in white gauze. I almost ask him for painkillers but I want to keep my head clear.

After a while he seems satisfied, tucks the pencil back in his pocket and heads for the door. "Well, Ethan, that wasn't so hard, was it? Try to get some sleep. I'm sending someone in who will bring you your clothes and keep you some company. I'll stop by again later."

I give a little mocking wave with my fingers, giving in to the urge to stick my tongue out at his back. Good riddance.

Ten minutes later a nurse enters the room, she's chewing gum and definitely not interested in 'keeping me some company'. Once she's convinced that I'm laying in bed and not trying to get up she forces a smile, lays a bunch of clothes on one of the chairs, checks the IV on my arm and leaves the room. I wait another five minutes, then I drag the needle out of my arm and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. If they're thinking I'm gonna stay here like a dumb idiot they are sorely mistaken.

I'm a little dizzy, so I can't move as fast a I would have liked but after taking a few deep breaths the black spots in front of my eyes disappear and I make my way to the chair. Realizing that the clothes laying on it are actually mine I wonder how long I was out of it. At least as long as it takes to clean a lot of fucking blood off of my jeans and t-shirt. Even my shoes and hoodie are there, although I took them off before I went into the tub. Didn't want to soil them with my blood so they're in good shape. I take off the hospital gown and dress as fast as I can. My feet are bare because I can't find socks, so I slip the shoes on without them.

I don't know how much time I have. I remember reading somewhere that every 15 minutes someone drops by to assure you're still there or didn't try to kill yourself again. I stick my head out in the hall. It's remarkable empty, thank god. After closing the door behind me I try to figure out which way to get out of the hospital without stumbling across Doc or the nurse. But everything goes well and a few minutes later I'm heading down the streets, away from the hospital.

* * *

 I've no clue where I am. After walking for a few hours I am now in a definitely sketchy area. I don't know this city, have been here only a couple of days to get a knife and to find a safe spot for my endeavor. I need to go back to the house, to see if my backpack and my knife are still there.

It's weird that my 'savior' decided to get me my shoes but not my backpack. Although...maybe the guy was a homeless and kept it for himself. Not that it contained anything of any value. Just some spare clothes and a picture.

It's getting darker with every minute now. The streets are dirty, littered with garbage. I see a lot more drunks and fucked-up people. Right now, I have no real destination because even though I want to get my knife back I don't know which way to go. So I'm just walking. My arms are hurting and I really want some painkillers now, something to numb the pain. And to be honest, all those sketchy people are creeping me out. I can feel eyes on me with every step I take. The people in the house entrances and dark corners are watching me, studying me. And slowly but surely I get the feeling that I'm being followed. I can hear steps behind me. Risking a glance back my fears are confirmed. Three bad looking guys are walking in a short distance behind me.

My hackles are rising and I suppress the urge to run, but I can't prevent my legs from walking faster. The footsteps are getting faster, too and my breath begins to quicken. I do have a death wish but I would like to decide how and when. And I definitely don't want to die while getting trashed.

"Hey, pretty, where ya goin' so late?" One of them drawls and okay, that's my sign to start running. And of course the guys start running, too.

Soon I'm gasping for breath and my right side begins to stitch. I never was overly athletic but in addition to that I'm exhausted and tired. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes and the sweat dripping down my forehead stings in them.

My feet get caught on something and I stumble. I try to break my fall but my sense of balance isn't working right because of the dizziness. I crash hard on the ground, my arms stretched out in front of me to prevent my face from getting smashed. The stitches in my arms tear, my palms are burning and the pain in my wrists is screaming. I'm amazed I don't cry out.

Behind me I can hear laughter and sneers.

"Aw, little girl, did ya fall? Lemme make ya feel betta." Girl? Do they think I'm a girl? I turn and sit up, they're getting closer with every step. I crawl backwards, trying to maintain some space.

My hands are desperate to find something to defend myself, a stick, a stone, _anything_. But it's useless, there's nothing. My back bumps into a wall. I realize too late that this turn-off was a dead end and before I can blink I'm circled.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No more runnin', sweetie." The tallest one bends forward and grins. He has a scar from his left temple to the corner of his mouth which makes his smile even more grotesque. "No need ta be scared."

All of them are taller and bigger then me and I am by no means a challenge for those guys with my slight, lean build. There's no way I'm able to fight them. I say nothing, just stare and really don't know what to do. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my chest hurts and my hands are almost numb from the pain. I can't even move them properly.

One of them spits on the ground. He's fat, I'm surprised he could keep up during the chase. He steps forward and kicks me right in my ribs. I scream.

"Stupid bitch, who does she think she is." He kicks again to emphasize his words. I think I felt something break. Most likely a rib. Or two. "Fucking cunt makin' us chase her."

Someone grabs my jaw, turns my head harsh from right to left. I try to pull away but his grip only gets stronger. It's the one with the scar. "Look at those cute, pink lips. Bet they'd look even better wrapped 'round my cock."

They laugh and I have trouble keeping my stomach content where it belongs. And then there are hands all over my body and I try to get away, I scream and bite and claw and thrash around but they're so strong and together they manage to hold me down and I can't breathe, I'm choking, suffocating.

They feel me up, grope _everywhere_ , and then- "Holy shit, she's a _boy_!" and I want to scream "Yes, Yes, I'm a boy so please stop-" but I can't because I just can't _breathe_. They laugh- "Ya a little faggot, boy? Here, I got somethin' for ya." -and then my legs and butt are cold because my pants have disappeared and I don't even know how and there's more groping and touching and I struggle and kick but it's no use, it's just no _use_ because my hands are held together by bigger and stronger hands and the fat one is sitting on my legs. Pain explodes on my face, my lips split open and blood gushes out of my nose. "Fuck, stop strugglin' ya stupid bitch. It's fuckin' annoyin'"

I lay limp for a moment, and I tell myself I have to get myself together because everything is kind of blurry and unfocused. I'm turned on my stomach. Fingers are in my mouth, trying to pry my lips open but I bite down and taste more blood and then there's pain again, and now I'm sure my ribs are fucking smashed.

"Don't ya dare do that again, ya lit-" and suddenly the hands and weight on my body vanish.

Confused I try to comprehend what's happening because I'm pretty sure I'm seeing things. Like in I'm sure I'm going bat-shit crazy. My attackers are getting slaughtered, literally. And it's a really fucking nasty sight, I can tell you. My stomach agrees and I can just about roll on my side before it decides to heave up its contents. I roll back just to see that the guy with the scar is getting his throat ripped out by some clawed... hand? or something like that while the fat one's already lying on the ground, not moving. The other one just gawks and looks like he's about to pee his pants. Or maybe he's already done it. With a sickening crunch the scarred one crashes against the wall and falls down. He does not look like he'll be moving anytime soon. Or ever. The last one joins him on the ground right after.

And my brain's overloading. Because I can't really keep up with this turn of events and this... _thing_ which is now stalking towards me isn't really helping either. Although it does look like a totally normal man. A damn tall, muscular and dangerous looking man. But then...oh my god those _hands_. What's up with those hands? The nails are like blades, long and sharp looking and dripping with blood. Almost like the ones Wolverine has. And his eyes are glowing. Red.

If I could move I would've run by now. But, yeah, I can't and I think it's a good time to follow I-pissed-myself-guy's example. Maybe I should shit myself too. But thank god I don't because losing control of your body-functions is humiliating. Even if you're about to get slaughtered by a monster. Instead I try to melt into the wall, press myself as near as possible and cover my head as much as my hurting arms allow. Ha. Like that could protect me from those fucking knife-like nails.

"Shh, hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, little one. It's okay, you're safe now."

Huh? What? It...strangely sounds like this, this _monster_ is trying to _calm_ me. And did he say he won't hurt me? Somehow I think that's funny because I can't stop the laughter that is bubbling up my chest and pours out over my lips even though it hurts oh so bad in my chest and sides. I laugh and laugh and then I cry until I can't tell the difference between them anymore and somewhere in my head something whispers that I'm about to lose my mind.

I barely notice that I'm picked up and cradled to a strong, warm chest and that I'm moving, or rather moved around, and then I'm out to the world. Again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up to upset sounding voices. I'm laying in a bed again. The more I regain consciousness the more my body hurts. My head, nose and upper lip throb and I have trouble breathing because of the pain that shoots through my rib cage every time I try to inhale. My arms feel like they got sliced open, sewn up, ripped open again and then stomped on. Ah, right. That did happen. Suddenly everything rushes back, the despair and the terrifying experience of seeing people get mercilessly murdered.

I think I made a sound or something because the voices stopped, and now there are footsteps and clothes rustling and then I can feel a cool, soft hand on my face, resting on my forehead. My eyes refuse to open properly so all I can see is a bleary face hovering above me.

“Are you awake, sweetheart?”

I swallow, it's like a deja vu because my mouth is dry again and my tongue feels foreign in my mouth. I manage to rasp a puny “Water...?” and then a coughing fit rattles my body and I want to scream in agony.

“Easy, easy. Here, let me help you.”

I blink a couple of times and my eyesight clears. The voice belongs to a woman, judging by her wrinkled face in her fifties, and together we manage to hoist me up in a halfway acceptable position to drink with bearable pain and without getting water everywhere.

After successfully downing the whole glass I sink back in the cushions. “What… how… where am I?” My eyes dart around and I notice that I'm most likely not in a hospital and that there are two more people in the room, a woman and a man.

“Well… what exactly do you remember?” My attention snaps back to the woman standing beside the bed.

“I… don't know. I was walking down the street and then there were these guys and... they started to chase me and I was running and then they tried... tried to ...” I swallow and notice that my hands are shaking so I hide them under the sheets. “... they thought I was a _girl_! And then there was... I don't know, it was weird because... it looked like he had knifes as fingernails and his eyes were red and... ” I trail of because the more I think about it the more ridiculous it sounds. Laser-eyes and knife-hands? Seriously? Come on.

I frown. “How did I get here? Who are you people?”

The women smiles and sits down on the bed. She has gray-streaked brown hair, held together in a bun on top of her head and friendly twinkling brown eyes.

“Blake found you in an alley, passed out and terribly beaten. He brought you here and Tess and Michael tried their best to put you back together though your ribs will ache for quite some time. They're not broken but you should be careful moving around. Tess redid the stitches in your arms and put a splint on your right wrist, it's contused. You've got some scratches on your palms and knees. They were cleaned to prevent an infection. Oh and you're lucky that your nose wasn't broken, it's just a little swollen. You were quite a mess, dear.” She pats my arm.

Well, so much for my physical condition. I'm confused, though. Why not take me to the hospital? Why bother bringing me here? My frown deepens. “I was alone? No... other people? Like... dead people?” What about the corpses?

She shakes her head. “As far as I know Blake didn't see anyone else.”

My confusion grows – and so does my headache. So I imagined that human-knife-thing? But I saw someone, _something_ kill those guys and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a normal being. I release a shaky breath. “And who exactly are you?”

Smiling softly she continues to pat my arm. “I'm Becky and this lovely women over there is Rose.”

Rose acknowledges me with a sweet smile and a nod. She seems to be twenty at most and has the prettiest hair I've ever seen. It's a fiery red and falls in wavy locks all the way down to her waist. Her eyes are a bright blue and she's small of stature, like a fairy.

I nod and mirror her smile, though it appears insecure on my face.

“And this is Joshua.” Becky continues, smiling at the young man sitting in a chair next to Rose.

Joshua greets me with a “Hey” and a broad grin. I try to keep up the smiling on my part but it falters when a wave of dizziness overcomes me and I slump back into the cushions, feeling shaky.

Becky tucks the blankets up and around my body, laying a motherly hand on my shoulder. “You should take it easy, you're in no condition to move around yet. What's your name, hon?”

Well, should I lie? Or tell them my real name? Can't hurt to tell them a little bit of truth, right? After all, I'm far away from home and I'm out of here the moment I am able to walk without doubling over in pain. And as long as I keep my last name for myself it won't be that big of a problem.

I lick my lips, tying not to show how nervous I am. “Lou.”

“Lou...?” She raises one brow, clearly waiting for me to continue.

“Just Lou.” I throw her a look that dares her to question me any further.

She makes an odd noise and nods once. “Well, Lou, I'm sure you're hungry. How about I make you some soup and after you've eaten and taken your painkillers you try to get some more sleep. All right?”

I shrug but my stomach betrays me in growling loudly. Becky only smiles. “I'll be right back.”

After she leaves the room Rose, who observed the whole conversation silently like Joshua, approaches the bed.

“Hey there.” She's smiling broadly. “How old are you Lou?” Sitting by my right side she gets comfortable on the bed.

“Uhm... 19.”

“Awesome, finally someone my age.” She winks. “I swear I'm getting crazy with all these old suckers in here.”

Joshua snorts and shakes his head. “27 is hardly old, Rose.”

“Compared to my twenty one, it is.”

“Yeah, only because you're 16 in your own mind.”

“Am not! Just because I'm not glaring daggers and scowling like Blake all the time doesn't mean I'm a child.”

I have no clue where I am and don't know how to deal with these strange people. “Uhm, guys? Can you tell me where I am?”

“Oh, right. This is Becky's house. Or more her husband's. But he is dead so she's inherited it.” Rose bounces up and down on the bed. It's a little stressful for my ribs, to be honest.

“And you're all living here?”

Joshua nods. “With a few others, yes. I'm sure you will be meeting them later.” Oh great. More people.

“And you are... like siblings or... ?”

Rose lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “No, not really. Oh god, I would hang myself if I was related to Blake. Becky does have kind of a mother role. She's sort of looking out for us, the mother hen more or less. But we're just living here together, like a big community you could say.”

I nod and survey the room. It is rather big with a king sized bed and a table with two chairs on the left side. Two tall windows that are mostly covered by heavy curtains are to my right and across from the bed is a big dark oak closet near the door. It's really impersonal. The room doesn't seem like it's normally occupied.

Becky enters the room with a tray furnished with a bowl and a cup of tea. She places the tray in my lap and I almost faint from the pleasant smell that is drifting from the bowl of soup. Next to the cup lay three pills which I assume are painkillers. I grab them because the pain in my body is slowly but surely becoming unbearable but Becky stops me and shakes her head. “Eat something first or you will upset your stomach.”

I decide to take her advice and begin to eat. Luckily my right arm is in a splint. I'm left handed so I'm able to eat left handed without straining my wrist. And the pain from the cuts is just about bearable. It's only soup but I haven't eaten properly for almost three days – I still don't know how long I was in the hospital so it could be longer – so something simple as that tastes really fucking awesome. Though that doesn't keep me from noticing the stares that bore through me like laser shots. It's really awkward and I can't bring myself to meet them. The silence isn't really helping either. The sudden sound of Becky clapping her hands once causes me to flinch and I almost spill the soup in my lap.

“Rose, Josh, how about you do the tasks you are assigned to? I really need them to be done and I believe Mira could use some help, too considering what a workaholic she is.”

Joshua looks puzzled. “I don't-”

Becky shots him a stern look. “Now, Joshua.”

“Becky, we can't leave him. Blake said to look-” Rose starts to protest, too.

“Rose,” Becky straightens her posture a bit. “As I am the proprietor of this house and you sleep under my roof and eat from my table you two do as I say without any backtalk. Is that clear? And do not worry about Blake.” Pressing her lips in a thin line Rose gives a stiff nod and leaves the room. After shooting Becky and me an uncertain glance Joshua follows her.

I eye Becky warily. Is she going to snap at me too? But she has already put on her gentle smiling face. The demanding persona has all but disappeared.

“Eat up, sweetheart. You need it.” She makes a prompting gesture.

After I finish the bowl I swallow the pills down with tea. I sink into the cushions with a satisfied sigh but with Becky still there I am unable to relax fully. She collects the tray and places it on the table. I watch her settle in one of the chairs and the way she folds her hands in her lap and crosses her legs tells me that an unpleasant chat lies ahead of me. And she wastes no time to start it.

“Lou, I can imagine you are quite confused and unsure about how things stand but I can assure you we mean no harm. I admit, you ending up here was Blake's doing and I am not entirely content with that. I am reluctant with letting you stay here. This environment is not suited for someone like you.” I open my mouth, about to interrupt her but she holds up a hand in a clear sign to let her finish and I snap my lips shut, not willing to make her angry at me.

“However, you are undoubtedly lost, injured and in need of help and I am the last person who would leave a defenseless young man on his own. Blake seems to feel responsible for you and so do I. Please feel free to stay here as long as you're injuries take to heal and after that we will decide what happens next.”

I stare with wide eyes at her. “But I have no money. I can't pay you, I don't even have-”

Becky interrupts me with a gentle laugh. “Don't worry about that Lou. You don't have to pay for anything. You don't owe anybody anything.”

I snort doubtfully. “Nothing's for free.”

“Well, then let me convince you of the contrary.”

* * *

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty!”

I wake with a start, for second confused and not entirely sure where I am. Within seconds everything comes rushing back and I blink, groan pitifully and pull the covers over my head. Rose is having none of that and tries to tug them from my hands.

“Come on Lou! It's a beautiful new morning and you and I are gonna enjoy it thoroughly. “

How can she be that bouncy and bubbly in the morning? The more I watch her and listen to her the more my head hurts.

“Let's go eat breakfast and meet the others. And your painkillers are downstairs, too.”

I peek up at the mention of pills because if she's like that the whole day I will definitely need them. And I'm feeling my bruises and rips already more than I prefer.

“Come on Lou, get up! The others are already in the dining-hall, Becky made her world-famous pancakes and if you don't hurry there will be none left for you!”

I cast a doubtful look at her. “I really appreciate the vote of confidence but I don't think I can move yet.”

Rose has the balls to actually roll her eyes at me. “What are you, a pussy or a man? Come on, get your shit together, as soon as you take your pills you'll be fine. Also, pancakes. I'm sure you're hungry.”

Accepting my fate I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Ouch. Ribs hurt like _mad_. “What time is it?”

“Half past nine in the morning you sleepyhead. You slept over 12 hours.”

Oh, wow. No wonder I feel so rested despite my injuries. But as hungry as I am the need to take a shower is stronger. I've gone without one almost four days now and it's beginning to show let alone reek.

“Uhm, hey Rose, is there a possibility that I can take a shower before breakfast? I mean, if it's not a bother... but I really feel uncomfortable.” I shudder. Last nights incidents leave me feeling stained and disgusted which adds to the already dirty condition of my body.

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” She eyes my jeans and shirt which are dirty again from my adventure last night. “You could probably use clean clothes, too huh? I'll see what I can find.”

“That would be great, thanks.” She smiles and ushers me through a door which leads to a bathroom.

“Shower stuff is in the shower, towels in the closet. I'll put the clothes on the bed okay? Oh and don't take too long or you won't be getting any pancakes! Come down after you're finished!” And with that I'm left alone in the bathroom.

The first thing I notice as I inspect myself in the mirror is my fat upper lip. My mouth _is_ normally full and pouty but small and the swelling and coloring makes my upper lip look obscene. I'm glad I didn't loose any teeth. My nose looks a bit better, as Becky said it isn't broken and just a little bit swollen, not as bad as my lip. Taking off my shirt is a painful process but allows me to continue my exploration and the sight that greets me is a little disturbing. My whole rib cage is colored an ugly black and purple. Awesome. I look like a crazy painter with a serious drug problem has run riot on me. And is that a footprint?!

“Stupid fucking fuckers.” I mutter under my breath as I continue to strip.

While slipping out of my jeans I remember the splint and bandages and take them off carefully because I don't think they're supposed to get wet. I'm sure the wounds shouldn't either but whatever.

Stepping under the spray of water I let it soak me. I begin to scrub my body and the longer I do that the more frantic I get. Turning the water as hot as possible I use half of the bottle of body wash and rub myself four times vigorously until I feel reasonably clean. The scrubbing leaves my skin red and irritated and the bruises and cuts throbbing but I feel better nonetheless. Stepping out of the shower I wrap myself with a big fluffy towel and head into the bedroom.

  
 

Rose left me gray sweatpants, black short boxer briefs and a green shirt on the bed. I'm glad it has long sleeves, so I can cover the bandages. The clothes are a little too big but after securing the pants with the draw string it's okay. I put the splint and bandages back on. It's difficult one-handed so they end up a bit messy. After drying my hair I try to tame my wild platinum blond curls with the brush I found in one of the drawers in the bathroom, but they're stubborn as always so I give up and let them curl around my head and ears. When I was younger I wore them long, past my shoulders but I took a scissor and cut them the day after I turned thirteen. They caused nothing but trouble.

I'm exhausted and my body aches. I really need those stupid pills now.

After exiting the room and walking down a long hallway I somehow end up on top of a wide staircase. While I'm descending the stairs I can already hear muffled conversations and smell fresh-made pancakes. I enter what appears to be the dining room through tall folding doors and am greeted with sudden silence and eight penetrating gazes.

“Uhm... good morning... ?” More staring. Yay. Go me!

“Lou! Good morning to you, too! How did you sleep? How are your injuries? I bet you're hungry!” Becky guides me to a chair on the big heavy table in the middle of the room so I'm sitting next to Rose who greets me with a smile.

“Okay guys, this gorgeous boy here is Lou. As I told you already he's going to stay with us for a while. Lou, the one with the glasses right across from you is Michael, besides him is Tess, you know Joshua and Rose already and those lovebirds over there are Adam and Kate.” They acknowledge me with a smile or a murmured 'hello' and I return the greetings, albeit feeling awkward and out of place. It's so weird. They just accept me sitting here, a complete stranger, like it's nothing new and common occurrence. Who knows, maybe they're making a habit of picking up strays. Or Blake is, considered he is the one who took me with him.

Becky places a plate full of mouth-watering, delicious smelling pancakes in front of me, hands me some pills and takes a seat at the end of the table.

The door burst open and another women enters the room. “Am I too late? Are there any pancakes left?”

Rose smiles and shakes her head. “Nah, you're right on time, Mira.”

After getting herself a plate of pancakes Mira takes a seat next to Tess. Her eyebrows rise when she notices me but otherwise she shows no reaction. “Hi. You're Lou, right?”

I nod and send her a hesitant smile.

“I'm Miranda but feel free to call me Mira.” And with that she begins to wolf the food down like she's starving.

“Jesus, Mira. Did you forget to eat again?” Joshua watches her with disgust.

“Well, some people actually do work and don't waste their time doing pointless stuff.” Mira snaps back. Joshua just shakes his head and continues to cut his pancakes with demonstratively neat movements. I have to restrain myself from laughing because it looks so ridiculous.

It's really hard to eat when you can feel the gazes of strangers on you. Nonetheless, the pancakes are delicious and after I've finished them I have to stop myself from licking the plate clean. I settle back in the chair, down the pills and observe the people surrounding me. They are engrossed in conversations, now and then glancing at me.

Michael seems to be of Asian origin with his straight black hair, slightly tanned complexion and almond-shaped dark-brown eyes. With his glasses, plain clothes and whipcord-thin build he looks like your typical nerd. Tess who is seated on Michael's right side seems to be a tall woman. She has light brown eyes, blond hair which is cut in a bob and an athletic build. Mira her black hair in a pixie-cut and has a piercing in the left side of her nose and one in her right brow. She's rather pale, clothed in black and wears black nail polish and eyeliner. Besides Rose sits Kate, she's slightly pudgy. Her brown hair is held together in a ponytail and her green eyes meet mine as I scrutinize her. She sends me a smile and I return it hesitantly. Her husband has the whole lumberjack-look going on,he's tall and muscular too and wears an unruly beard with unkempt dark-brown hair.

“Uhm... Tess? And... Michael?” Both turn to face me and I begin to fidget. “Uhm, thank you for... you know,” I make a hazy gesticulation and smile timidly “patching me up and stuff.”

Michael shrugs. “No prob.”

“Yup, no need to thank us. We're doctors, we do what we can to help. It's our inner calling.” Tess winks and continues to eat.

For the rest of breakfast, Rose chatters happily on and besides the obligatory nod and “hm” from me I'm quiet. I'm starting to get drowsy, the drugs are getting to me. By the time all pancakes are eaten, most of the people have disappeared and only Rose, Becky and me are left. Becky is clearing the table and I make a move to help her, but she shakes her head.

“Your body is by no means in a condition where you should move around too much. And you look pretty winded. Go back to sleep, Lou.”

So I do that.

* * *

I frown. “What makes you think I'm going to stay?”

Rose and I are sitting outside by the swimming pool in a porch swing, wrapped up in warm blankets. The air is cold and fresh but the sun is warm. It's been six days since I woke up in the bedroom on the second floor in this huge mansion and by now Rose and I have gotten pretty close.

Rose shrugs. “Well, it would be great. And I don't think Blake is going to let you go for a while. Don't worry, the others just have to get to know you better and in no time you're going to be a part of our community.” She beams at me.

Really, I'm in no position to be complaining but I really don't get it. And that Blake remark irks me. Who does he think he is? 'Not letting me go for a while'? What the ever loving fuck is that supposed to mean? Am I a fucking prisoner here? I haven't even met him yet. The same goes for Becky and Rose. What do they want from me? Why do they even care?

“Okay, just... what the hell? I don't fucking get it, seriously. Like, what do you even want? I'm... confused. Really, I'm grateful and all that but _why_ are you doing this? I am here for how long now? Not even a week. You don't know me, I don't know you, why bother? I'm just a stranger you picked up. A nobody.”

And then it hits me like a blow to the head. “Oh fuck. You know about me. You've seen me on TV, right?” Fuck fuck fuck. I can feel the blood draining from my face, swaying a bit in my seat. My hands shake as I run them through my hair in jerky movements. “I'm sorry but I don't think you will be getting any money through me. My parents don't give a fuck about me but I thought that was clear after all those reports about our family. Really, just... I'm sorry but... ” I have to laugh because it's just so absurd. Did they think I would be easy money? Maybe blackmail my parents? They would be the last to pay anything for my sake.

Rose stares at me, her eyes wide in shock. “Woah what? What are you talking about? No, it's just...you seemed like you have nowhere to go and it's not like you or the people in the hospital did a good job in caring for you so we thought it would be best to have you here with us.”

That stops me short. “How do you know I was in a hospital?” I ask suspiciously.

Rose closes and opens her mouth a few times. “... Your wrists. They were already stitched up.”

That hesitation was way too suspicious. I scrutinize her. And she's not meeting my eyes. A strange sort of calmness washes over me. “You know who brought me to the hospital, right?”

Her eyes widen for a short moment of... something... a mixture of surprise and guilt? but she covers it right up. “What? You don't know how you got to the hospital?”

I cross my arms, sure I am on something and lean back. “Rose, don't play dumb. I know you know.”

She starts to fidget with her nails under my glare. Okay it's official, Rose can't keep shit to herself if you just drill her enough. “Rose... ?” She mumbles something under her breath. “Care to repeat that?”

“Oh okay, fuck it!” She throws her hands in the air. “I'm only telling you this because I think you have the right to know okay?” Rose pushes her finger in my chest. “Blake took you to the hospital, okay? But they did a shitty job in looking out for you apparently because not even a day later you're out on the streets _again_ and he has to rescue you _again_!”

Oh the audacity! “What the fuck?! He... that... It's not like I asked him to be my hero for fucks sake! I was perfectly fine with how things were!”

“Fine? _Fine_?! Are you for real? You were bleeding to death all alone in an abandoned house! You were beaten by some low-life fuckers who wanted to _rape_ you and if it wasn't for Blake you would have ended up in a dumpster!” Rose looks ready to punch me and by now I'm equally seething.

“Because I wanted to, Rose! That was _my_ decision! My decision to go and sit in that stupid tub, my decision to slit my wrists, my decision to _die_. I am glad that he got me out of that alley because I totally didn't want to die by the hands of some thugs but that would have never happened if he just left me to rot in that old house.”

I have to stop to suck in a deep breath. Rose eyes got wider the more I rambled on and I really don't like the look on her face. It's horror and pity and everything I don't want to see.

“Goddammit Lou.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Why? What happened?”

“None of your fucking business.” And I shoot up from the porch swing and stomp through the patio door up into my room.

  
 

Frustration is swelling in my chest and head like a viscous black liquid and I have the strong urge to destroy something.

To prevent myself from doing so I lock myself in the bathroom and sit down on the cold tiles, hug my knees to my chest (and realize that it's time to take some painkillers again) and hide my face in the crook of my arms. I'm sick of dealing with this. Those fucking questions, glances, assumptions and secrets. I know I'm behaving like a petulant and stubborn child but I don't want to talk about it. Not about my parents, my uncle, my so-called friends and definitely not about my failed attempt to end my pathetic life.

I snort and lean my head back on the wall with a bang. And hiding in the bathroom is the solution?

Well. It does make me feel better.

It's totally understandable that Rose wants to know what happened since I'm staying here without them knowing anything about me, not to mention for free. But I really wish she would just leave me alone. Becky will eventually start probing too, if I'm reading the glances she sends me now and then correctly.

Hence I need to come up with something, some believable story. Because they don't need to know about my kiddo-fiddling uncle or my homophobic, greedy parents. They don't need to know that my father began to beat me regularly after I told him that his brother, who I hadn't seen for almost 12 years, touched me the night I turned 13, saying that it was my fault for causing such a craving in a sincere and honorable man. They don't need to know about the scandal that occurred when it went public that my parents never pressed charges against my uncle. They don't need to know that they disowned me and threw me out into the streets when the uproar had quieted down four and a half years later. They don't need to know that my so-called 'friends' turned their backs on me as soon as I was left without money and status. They don't need to know that my mother regarded me with disgust and disappointment after she found the gay magazines stashed under my bed when I was 16. They don't need to know that I'm a fucking failure who can't even manage to kill himself.

So, a made-up story it is. Uhm, how about I lived with an alcoholic father who beat me and my mother. Aaaand... she ran away. And left me. He continued to beat me, even harder when he found out I was gay. And then... I decided to run away too. And I went to this city somehow and found this abandoned house and decided to kill myself there so no one would find me (ha ha) and I slit my wrists because I didn't have any friends and no one loved me and all my father, who I just wanted to love me for what I am, did was beating me senseless.

There. A nice, convincing sob-story without revealing what really happened and just a grain of truth, enough to be plausible. I'm so proud of myself right now and it's raising my mood considerably so I open the door and skip (well, not really because _ribs_ ) down the hallway to tell Rose my tale. And run face first into a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and especially to RyanDamion, who commented! You guys are the best! Hope you enjoyed chapter 2! love you aaallllll


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Ouch.

No, wait. Do walls breathe? Because it feels like it is. It's warm too. And covered in fabric. Based on those facts I would say my face is currently smashed against someones chest. As I look up I'm greeted with a chiseled, stubbly jaw on a very human face. A gorgeous face with short black hair on top. It wears a mild surprised expression and the left corner of the wide, kissable mouth is pulled up slightly in a grin. I stare.

“You all right there?”

I snap out of my trance and notice that he has his arms around me. Probably to keep me from falling when I ran into him.

“Uh yeah. Thanks. I'm fine.” I'm a little uncomfortable and I realize that being held too tight is something I really don't like, having been jumped by those fuckers in the alley. But something is keeping me from fighting his hold because somehow... somehow I recognize his face and voice. His incredibly handsome face and deep voice that is vibrating through my whole body when he speaks... goddammit, focus Lou!

“Don't go bouncing through the hallways like that if you want to stay uninjured, little one.”

I frown. Where did I hear...wait. I lean back in his arms and look him up and down. He's really tall and muscular... and why is his face so similar to... ”Oh God!”

He smirks. “Not quite, little one. But damn close.”

I leap out of his grip and stumble a few steps backwards. Hastily I straighten myself and thrust an accusing finger at him. “You were there, in the alley! I saw you, you were... your eyes were red! And your hands...”

I trail off as my glare lands on his eyes and then his hands. Nothing unusual there. His eyes are a really dark brown, almost black and are accompanied by strong black eyebrows. And his hands, aside from being large and long-fingered and gorgeous like the rest of his body are looking totally normal. No knife-thingies anywhere. I frown harder and tilt my head to the side. But I could have sworn it was him there in the alley. It was his voice I heard there, trying to soothe me. And his hands that were ripping those sickos apart.

He chuckles. My eyes snap back to his face and I can see that he finds this whole thing pretty amusing. “Well, I picked you up after you were assaulted by human scum. But I'm positive you hallucinated the whole 'scary monster thing'.”

“No.” I gnaw on my lip and shake my head vigorously. “I mean, I... I know what I saw. And that was definitely you who killed those-”

“Careful there. Are you saying I murdered someone?” He scowls and takes a step forward. His whole body suddenly resonates danger and menace.

My mouth gets dry and I start stuttering. “N-no. No I was just... I th-thought that...”

He shakes his head with a scowl and takes another step in my direction which causes me to take a few steps back in return. “Don't go and make accusations so easily.”

“B-But I saw-” He cuts me off with a snarl that sounds entirely _not_ humanand snapping my mouth shut I turn and race back the way I came.

Holy shit.

  
  


***

  
  


Scary guy, who I assumed has to be Blake, seems nowhere to be seen when I step into the kitchen a little later. Rose is nursing a glass of water, looking out of the window. She sends me a hesitant smile when I greet her and hop on the kitchen counter.

“Rose, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't want to snap at you like that. It's just... I don't feel comfortable talking about it, you know?”

She nods her head. “It's fine. I won't force you to tell me anything. I mean I _do_ want to know what happened but I get that it's hard to talk about something like that.”

I shrug and take an apple from the fruit basket. Handy-dandy story, there you go. “Well, I... I think it's only fair if I tell you. It's...I was living with my parents. And my Dad, he... let's say he wasn't really stingy when it came to dealing out painful blows. It got even worse when he found out I was gay. My mom got sick of it and packed her things and took off. So the only one left to be a punching bag was me. I decided I couldn't take any more and left too. I tried to muddle through but I guess it didn't go well considering I ended up in the hospital.”

Rose was watching me closely as I told her my story while munching the apple and I can tell she wants to ask some questions. Uh oh, here it comes.

“Do you still want to...?”

“...die?”

She nods.

I look at her thoughtfully. “You know, it's easy to die. It's harder to live.” I pause and frown, then huff out a small laugh. “But at the moment I'm okay with living a bit longer, I guess.” I don't know if I said that to reassure her or because it's true.

She nods and hugs me around my waist, pushing her face in my chest since I'm still sitting on the counter. “I'm glad you're here now. It's awful what you had to endure.”

I smile a bit and pat her hair. “Yeah, I'm glad I'm here too.”

Our (oh so beautiful) bonding-moment is destroyed when she looks up at me with a cheeky grin and asks “So you like cock, huh?”

I blush. Does she have to be so blunt? “Well...yeah.”

Pinching my cheeks Rose squeals. “Aw, that's too cute! I've never had a gay friend!”

“Uhm, okay.” I don't really know how to deal with that so I try to change the topic. “Wanna watch a movie? I need some distraction after all that depressing stuff.”

We argue for a while what movie (schmaltzy love story or brainless action flick) to watch but eventually huddle up on the big sofa in the living room. They have a pretty decent TV, with a huge flat screen and whatnot. Michael and I played some video games on the PlayStation already. It's fun even though I suck big time at them but he was so nice and didn't comment on it.

Rose throws her feet in my lap once she switched on the TV and when the movie she chose begins to play I groan and curse myself inwardly for yielding to her pleading. Joshua joins us halfway through the movie because, as he enunciates beautifully, 'misery loves company'. I'm sure he only wants to cover up that he likes to watch cheesy stuff.

  
  


***

  
  


Holy fucking hell. Just as I thought that it can't get any worse I'm facing another scary guy. Apparently this one is named Carlos and is living here too. Tall, muscular and dark. Blake and Carlos were on a 'business-trip', that's why I didn't meet them yet. Could have stayed that way if you ask me. They make me feel unmanly. Not that I'm the emblem of masculinity in the first place but compared to them I'm a _wimp_.

We're having a barbecue for dinner. The sun is still up and warm and Rose and I are sitting on the porch swing again, lightly swinging back and forth.

Adam is in charge of the grill and looks ridiculous dressed in a red apron with 'licensed to grill' written on the front. Becky and Kate are in the kitchen and Carlos and Joshua are keeping Adam company. Only Blake didn't show up. I don't know if I should be disappointed or glad.

Tess, Mira and Michael joined us a few minutes ago and together with Rose they are now absorbed in a discussion about hair dye (well, actually, Micheal seems to be uninterested). I only listen with half an ear and almost miss it when Tess calls my name.

“Uh, what?”

“We were wondering if your hair is natural or dyed. Because it really looks, well, not like natural blond hair because it's so light.”

“Nah, look at his eyebrows. They're the same color. And his lashes too.” Rose pokes around on my face.

I grin and dodge her hands. “Yup, I'm all natural.”

“Really? You don't dye it?” Tess begins to pet my curls.

I roll my eyes and try to avoid her hands, too. “No, never did. It got a little darker the older I got but it's still pretty light.”

“It's nice. I really like it. Makes your green eyes and freckles stand out more.”

“Why, thank you Mira! Your hair's pretty awesome too. Makes you look all pale and ghostly.” I grin, lean down to where she's sitting by my feet and teasingly mess up her hair with my splint-less hand. She shoots me a glare and slaps my hand away.

“Uh oh, Lou don't do that!” Joshua calls from across the garden. “She can't stand it when someone touches her precious hair!”

Mira huffs and turns the evil eye on him. “Shut your banana-hole you stupid monkey.”

Joshua just grins and turns back to whatever he was doing. Sometimes I wonder if there's something going on between those two. There is definitely unresolved sexual tension.

Tess nudges my arm. “Lou, would you let me take a look at your wounds later? To change you're bandages and such.”

Despite that I'm wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt my arms sneak under the blanket to hide them from the gazes now falling on me. I nod uncomfortably.

“Great. Just come down to the basement with me later and I will see to it.”

This house has a basement, too? How fucking huge can it even be?

“Guys, we can eat! Dinner is ready.” Becky is standing in the patio door and beckons us to come in. I stand up and fold the blanket, lay it on the porch swing and enter the house. Blake is already seated at the head of the table, working at a laptop but closes it and puts it aside as we enter the room.

I don't look at him during the whole dinner. I'm feeling awkward about our meeting in the hallway. He really looked super fucking scary; it's not hard to imagine him there in the alley, slaughtering and killing– no Lou! Don't even go there. Bad boy. He said he didn't do it so he didn't do it. End of story.

“Hey Lou, what do you think about shopping?”

I tear my gaze away from my plate and look at Rose with a frown. “Shopping?”

She waves her fork around. “Yeah, you know, going to the mall, visiting stores with fancy clothes, trying them on, buying some of them and later engaging in a big fat delicious latte macchiato to relax after a successful shopping day.”

I catch myself before I'm able to roll my eyes. I know what shopping means but _thank you_ for your detailed explanation of the phenomenon known as 'shopping', Rose.

“Oh that's a wonderful idea, Rose!” Becky beams at us. “Lou really needs some new and better fitting clothes.”

Me? We're going shopping for me? True, I only own one pair of jeans and a hoodie and Rose gave me some underwear and long-sleeved t-shirts that are a little too big but I haven't got any money to buy new clothes. I tell them that.

“No worries Lou. That's all covered.” Becky smiles gently.

I scratch my neck and slouch slightly. I feel bad for being such a freeloader. “But-”

That's where Blake interrupts. “No buts. You're going shopping. And come back with decent clothes. These are an eyesore.”

I look down on me. I'm wearing the gray sweat pants Rose gave me the first day and a blue shirt that's easily two sizes too big but it's not _that_ bad, generally speaking. How mean. And backtalk is not appreciated, apparently. I suppress a snort and squeeze out a “Thank you.”

Becky shoots Blake a reproving look. “You're very welcome, Lou. When do you two want to go?”

Rose purses her lips and looks at me. “Tomorrow? I'm free then.”

I do a nod-shrug-thingy. “Yeah, why not.” It's not like I have anything to do here.

  
  


***

  
  


After dinner I follow Tess down to the basement. It's big with long corridors and doors right and left and all of a sudden we're standing in what looks like an infirmary.

I can't help but wonder why they have something like that here. Only now do I really realize that there are two doctors, Tess and Michael. I thought it was a coincidence but it seems like there's more behind it.

Tess beckons me to take a seat on the bed, takes off my splint and begins to uncoil my bandages. The cuts appear to be healing nicely but Tess shows a puzzled expression.

“...weird. When did you cut– did this happen again?”

I ignore her slip and calculate roughly the days. “Seven, eight days ago, I think. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Well, wounds to this extend normally take two to three weeks to heal. The healing process shouldn't be that progressed.” The frown doesn't leave her face as she starts to remove the threads. The scars are long, from the crook of my elbow to my wrist, one on each arm and red and tender looking.

I shrug. “I heal really quick. Always did.” I've had enough injuries in the past to prove that.

Tess shakes her head. “Still, it's not normal. Can you move your fingers okay?”

I wiggle them and nod. “Sometimes I feel a weird sensation on the skin. Like a suddenly hot or cold feeling.”

“That's due to the nerves that got injured. They should recover in a few days. You're lucky you didn't cut a tendon or else you would have problems moving your fingers.” Tess takes my right arm in her hand. “What about your wrist? Does it still hurt?”

“Uhm, no. As long as I wear the splint it's fine.”

Tess bends my hand a little. “And now?”

“It's not exactly as painful as before but still sore.”

She purses her lips but shakes her head after a second. “Alright.” She puts the splint back on. “You should wear the splint another week, just to be sure. After that I'm going to check your wrist again. It should be fine by then.”

“Okay.”

“What about your ribs?”

I shrug. I still have pains but they're bearable. They are nothing compared to the agony I felt the first two days.

“Let me take a look at them.”

I take off my shirt and she begins to inspect them, touching here and there. I wince slightly. My bruises have changed to a sickly brown and yellow by now and still hurt if you put too much pressure on them. There's the frown again but she doesn't elaborate any further. She allows me to slip on my shirt again.

“Well, it seems like they'll be healed in a week. Take it easy until then.”

“Gotcha, doc.” I tap my fingers on my head in a salute.

She hands me several painkillers and I head back into my room. After stripping down to my briefs, putting on a loose fitting white t-shirt and downing some pills I huddle up under the sheets, close my eyes and in a second I'm knocked out.

  
  


***

  
  


“Oooh Lou, you have to try this on! It's adorable!” Rose squeals and holds a pink tee with glitter-print in front of my chest. I shoot her a look of horror.

“Are you serious? I'm not some barbie doll.”

“Oh come on. It's totally your color. Goes well with your hair.”

“Rose, in case you missed it: I'm a boy. I can grow a beard, I have hairs on my legs and obviously own a penis and a pair of balls. So stop throwing clothes on me not even a sparkly-unicorn-loving girl would wear.”

Rose pouts but puts it back. “You're no fun. And you can't grow a beard, the only thing that's sprouting on your chin is fuzz. And you're _pretty_ and _cute_.” She snaps her fingers like she just made a discovery. “I know! You're a girl with male equipment! And no boobs. Or mini-boobs? How big are they?”

“Why, thank you Rose. I always wanted to be called a pretty, cute girl. Trample over my masculinity and pride. Have a blast, why don't you. And I do not have boobs, what the fuck even!”

Rose snorts. “Don't be such a wuss.”

I gasp indignantly. “Who wanted to dress _me_ in pink just now?!”

“And I swear, it would fit you _so_ well.”

She takes another t-shirt, this one's plain black, and holds it up with a questioning look. I nod to show my approval and after some bickering about 'clothes Lou should definitely wear because they look so cute' and 'clothes Lou would burn if they so much as come near his skin' we settle on a few plain-colored t-shirts, both long- and short-sleeved and some cardigans. For good measure I grab some hoodies, a few blue and black pants and some gray sweatpants too.

I won't elaborate on the things that occurred while we were shopping for some underwear. It was just plain embarrassing and I was relieved when we left the store. I'm never again going shopping for underwear with Rose. _Never again_.

The only thing we could agree on immediately during our shopping-tour were my shoes.

After Rose bought herself a 'big fat delicious latte macchiato' we leave the mall with our acquisitions and head for the parking lot. We store the big bags away in the trunk and I'm about to get in the car when I notice some guys approaching us. Immediately a bad feeling settles in my stomach. Rose is still lost in the trunk and I nudge her with my elbow to get her attention.

“Hey, do you know these guys? 'Cause they look like they know you, but not in a friendly way.”

A muffled “What?” and a bang and curse later Rose surfaces. As soon as her eyes focus on the men now only one row of cars away she turns as white as a sheet. Definitely _not_ friendly.

“Get in the car.”

I look at her baffled. “What? Why?”

Rose is taut like a bowstring and her hands are clenched to fists. “Lou, get in the car _now_.”

But it's too late, they're already right in front of us. One is walking ahead of the other two and reeks of authority and arrogance. He's clearly the leader. Rose takes a step forward as if to hide me with her body. Not that it works because even if I'm short I'm still taller than her.

“Well, well. Look who we've found. Blake's little spitfire.” Mr. Arrogant crosses his arms and smirks.

“What do you want Leloyd?” Rose spits more than asks as she mirrors Mr. Arrogant's stance.

He tips his chin at me. “Who's he? Your new boyfriend? He looks a bit puny.”

The fuck? Who is this guy? I open my mouth to tell him who exactly is looking puny here but before I can utter a word Rose interrupts.

“None of your fucking business and if you would excuse us we have things to do.” She takes my elbow to lead me around the car but before we get to take a step we're stopped by Mr. Arrogant's tight-lipped goons.

Why do all guys I meet these days tower over me?

Rose narrows her eyes at them and tightens her grip on my arm. “If Blake so much as hears that you're sniffing around in his territory you will be dead meat.”

Mr. Arrogant tsks and shakes his head reprovingly. “You and your big mouth. Blake can't do shit. He's a fucking pansy who babysits humans and can't control his subordinates. Ridiculous.”

“Apparently Vincent is inept at holding his 'subordinates' on a tight leash too. _He_ knows where the boundaries are and _you_ overstepped them clearly.”

He snarls and shows his teeth in a manner as if to bare his fangs. If he had some. “Don't compare Vincent to Blake! Blake doesn't even reach his greatness!”

“Whatever you say, Leloyd.” Rose tugs on my arm to get me moving but Mr. Arrogant takes a step forward and reaches around Rose to grab my arm.

“Not so fast! Let me take a look at you at least, boy.”

“What? No! Let me go!” I try to sidestep him but he's stronger and I struggle to free my arm from his steely hold. He snatches my other arm too and squeezes them both to my sides. That's a no-go for my ribs and I have to bite back a whimper. I start to panic because I can't move, can't do anything to break free from his hold. He leans a bit forward and stares at me. His eyes are strange. Are they... are they glowing red?

I blink confused. No, they're brown. A normal muddy brown.

“What's your name?”

He shakes me a bit and I have to bite my lip to keep myself from screaming. “L-lou. Pl-please let me-”

“What are you doing with Rosy-baby here? You're human right? What are you doing with someone like Blake?” He continues to scrutinize me and suddenly his eyes light up.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckles and his grip on my arms tightens. I'm sure I'm going to have finger-shaped bruises there. My breath gets shallow and my heart starts to beat like crazy. I try my hardest to stay in the present. No alley, no thugs who try to beat or _rape_ me. Just some crazy dude who's holding me too tight.

“You're his new plaything right? He goes for types like you. Tell me, is he good in bed? When you fuck, is he sucking your blo-”

“ _Stop it, Leloyd”_ Rose, who got held back by Mr. Arrogant's goons, looks downright scary. And I'm hallucinating again because I think her eyes flashed red for a second. “If you value your life it would be a wise decision to let go of him.”

Mr. Arrogant smirks but straightens and releases my arms. I stumble back, shaking and sweating, trying to catch my breath.

Gesturing to his goons to let go of Rose he lets his gaze linger on me. Rose instantly pulls me to her side and pushes me towards the car.

“Tell Blake to enjoy his time with those incompetent weaklings he calls humans. Because it won't be for much longer.” He sends me and Rose a threatening smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lou.”

Yeah. So not likewise.

Rose glares at him. “Go to hell, Leloyd.”

He laughs as he walks away, his goons in tow.

Rose turns to me, a concerned expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

I nod and wrap my shaking arms around myself. “Rose, what...who was that?”

She sighs and closes her eyes tiredly then turns around to open the driver's door. “Get in the car, Lou.”

“What did he mea-”

With a bang Rose slams her hand on the hood of the car and whirls around to glare at me. “Goddammit, can't you just _do_ what you're told? Get in the fucking car already!”

I flinch and hunch my shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Her gaze softens. Sighing again she rubs a hand over her face and shakes her head. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Just...get in the car please?”

Nodding, I open the door and drop into my seat, still feeling shaky and on the verge of a panic attack. This was fucking weird.

The whole drive back to the mansion I steal glances at Rose. Her lips are pressed together in a tight line and she's gripping the steering wheel so hard that the knuckles on her hands turn white.

Who was that Leloyd? And why did he say 'humans'? As if he separates himself. Why did he think me and Blake are... like _that?_ What did he mean with 'it won't be for much longer'? Was that a threat? A threat against Blake?

  
  


***

  
  


I'm laying propped up in my bed, reading a book. When we arrived here Rose hurried into the house. Apparently running into Mr. Arrogant is a big issue. After a tension heavy dinner everyone disappeared through a tall solid door and I was sent to my room. I try not to be offended by that.

After taking a shower and dressing in an oversized tee and some short boxer briefs I decided to read to distract myself. Not like it's helping or something. My thoughts are drifting and I think I read the same page twice already.

Hm. There _is_ a better way to distract myself, actually.

Putting down the book I wriggle out of my clothes and let them fall to the floor.

I start to run my hands over my chest, only stopping to roll my nipples between my fingertips. They're really sensitive and I shudder when they begin to harden. Playing with my nipples always gets me going, and I can feel my cock twitch. I slide one hand down, massaging it gently. I don't feel like rushing anything, so I take my time, giving my palm a lick to get it wet and make it slide along my shaft smoothly. It feels so good, and I can't help the soft moans that are coming from my mouth. I relax against the bed, the tension of the day leaving my body. There's wetness gathering on my tip and I give it a swipe which each upstroke. My thoughts are wandering, imagining bigger, stronger hands instead of mine.

And suddenly Blake's face appears before my eyes. His handsome face and his deep, sexy voice...

”Ngh...” I groan and my hand moves faster. The other one, with the splint, abandons my nipples and reaches down to massage my balls. Imagining them to be Blake's, two fingers sneak further down to press against the tight ring of muscles hidden there. I lick my lips, tasting sweat and guide my fingers up to my mouth. To get them as wet as possible I lather them thoroughly in saliva because I don't have proper lube, then reach back down again. Putting pressure on the tip of my middle finger it slips through my hole and despite the slight burning, tingles course all the way through my belly, arms and legs to my toes and fingertips. I gasp and start to fuck myself with short, fast thrusts to loosen me up enough to add a second finger. Soon I' stuffed full with three fingers buried inside of me while my hand is flying up and down on my cock in a frantic manner. I'm just barely able to brush my prostate with my middle finger, but it's enough and pleasure shoots through my body. My breath hitches and I suppress a loud groan. My cock is leaking pre-cum constantly now and I can feel that I'm close.

Throwing my head back in the cushions I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming when my orgasm sweeps over me like a wave, taking me with it and leaving me stranded on the beach of satisfaction and drowsiness. My hole pulses with aftershocks and I give a full body shudder when I pull my fingers out of me.

After my heartbeat quiets down I slowly but surely can feel my eyelids grow heavy. That's thanks to both the orgasm and the painkillers I had to take after my encounter with Mr. Arrogant. I lay limply for a few more minutes, then get up to wipe the sticky cum off of my stomach and clean my hands. Throwing my tee and boxer briefs back on I turn off the ceiling light but keep the little lamp standing on top of my nightstand on.

I refuse to be in a dark room since my uncle crept up on me.

I bury myself in the sheets and before I know it I'm asleep.

  
  


***

  
  


I'm running.

It's dark, so dark that I can't see where I'm going. I can feel the breath of my pursuer on my neck, his steps echoing behind me. Something is pressing down on me and it gets harder to move my body but I force my legs to run, to move, causing my lungs to burn in exertion.

I need to be _faster_ than _him_.

The sudden ease of pressure sends me stumbling and I fall. And fall and fall and fall.

I open my mouth to scream but it's a voiceless sound and suddenly there are shadows, forming into monsters with bleeding eyes and long, sharp claws. They grab at me and I'm still screaming without a sound. Then a familiar face appears and I'm snatched by my wrists and stop falling with a painful jerk. Now I would prefer to keep falling because _his_ hands begin to grope all over my body, touching me, dirtying me. And those monsters with bleeding eyes dance around us in a mad fashion, howling and glaring and clicking their claws at me.

  
  


I shoot up with a silent scream on my lips. My eyes travel over the by now familiar furniture in my room and my breathing slows down. I chuckle bitterly. Congratulations Lou, you just had a nightmare.

Ew, I'm all sweaty now.

Groaning I fall back into the sheets but I'm too agitated to go back to sleep. The clock on my nightstand tells me I've been asleep less than three hours. Awesome.

In the past, my mom used to make me a cup of warm milk with honey if I had problems falling asleep. That was before I cut my hair, before I became a nuisance and a humiliation.

Sighing, I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The ground is cold under my feet. Throwing on a warm cardigan I head down the hallway and staircase into the kitchen. The light blinds me momentarily when it flickers on but after blinking a few times my eyes get accustomed to it.

After heating up some milk on the stove and adding some honey to it I sit down at the big table in the dining room. The silence is deafening.

“What are you doing here? It's half past two.”

I jump about a foot in the air and choking on a mouthful of milk I manage to spray it over the entire table. Considering how large it is it's a remarkable performance.

Wiping my mouth with a sleeve I turn around. Blake is leaning with crossed arms in the doorway, managing to look hot and casual at the same time. I can't help but remember the things I did just a few hours ago while thinking of him.

Blushing, I clear my throat. “Uh. Well. I couldn't sleep so...” I hold up my mug.

His left eyebrow shoots up. “So you went and made yourself a mug of warm milk. Did you have a nightmare?”

I avoid looking at him by staring down on the table. “... something like that, yeah.” I notice the milk splashes and rise to get a cleaning rag but Blake is suddenly standing beside my chair and begins to clean it. Flopping back I mutter a “Thank you.” and wrap my cold hands around my mug. Lost in thought I study him while he cleans.

When I'm standing next to him he's a whole head taller than me but he seems even more intimidating with me sitting. His black hair is short but tousled, as if he ran his fingers through it in exasperation. Is that because of the 'secretly' held meeting? Was that 'it won't be for much longer' remark really a threat that needs to be taken seriously? What's the deal with that arrogant dude anyway?

“Blake? Who is Leloyd?”

He tenses for a second, then continues to clean the table with calm movements. “No one you should wrack your pretty head about. “

I huff doubtfully. “You seem to think otherwise or else you wouldn't have holed yourselves up in that room for the whole evening.And Rose's reaction when she saw him told me something else too. What does she mean when she says 'territory'? And why did Leloyd call humans 'weaklings'? Isn't he human too?”

Blake shakes his head. “There are some... discrepancies between us. It's nothing serious. He just has a s _ uperiority complex. _ ”

I watch him with a frown as he drops the rag into the sink and leans against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms. Does he think I don't notice that he's avoiding most of my questions? And what 'discrepancies'?

“Do you have them often?”

I send him a confused look. “What often?”

“Nightmares.”

I shrug. “Sometimes.” More often than I would like. Guess when they started.

He nods as if in deep thought. Then he seems to remember something. “How are your injuries? I heard Tess removed the stitches in your arms.”

I rub my arms self-consciously and nod. Please don't let him ask about them. Come on Lou, change the subject. Hugging myself with one arm I rub my sleeve-covered palm over my nose.

“Uhm, I...wanted to thank you. You know, for picking me up. In that alley.” I glance up and am surprised to see a genuine smile on his face. He's even more handsome when he's not showing a mocking or scowling expression. But it gives way to a frown.

“Couldn't leave you there like that, right?” he says quietly. The silence that follows is very uncomfortable.

“Why did you take me to the hospital?” I blurt out. “I-I mean, you could have taken me here right away.”

“How did you...? Rose couldn't keep her mouth shut right?”

I shrug innocently. “So why didn't you? I'm not complaining or anything, I just want...to know?”

He stares at me with an unreadable look on his face and hesitates for a moment. “... here isn't exactly the right place for you-” What's with all this 'you shouldn't be here' shit? I didn't fucking ask to be. “-but apparently it's better than being out on the streets or in a hospital. Yet.” He looks at me in earnest. “It's not like you plan on doing something reckless any time soon right?”

It sounds more like a warning than a question. And causes me to realize that even though I was hell-bent to bolt the moment I was able to walk straight when I first woke up here, thoughts like that didn't cross my mind a second time. I like it here. I found a new friend in Rose, and Becky is like the mother I never really had. The others are pretty decent too.

Smiling to myself I shake my head. “Not at the moment, no.”

He pushes back from the counter and nods once. “Good.”

He heads to the door but stops and turns around to look at me. “If you ever feel like talking or something...you're welcome to come to me. Good night, Lou.”

For a second I'm too surprised to respond and when I finally catch myself he's gone already.

 

  
  


 


End file.
